


unlikely constellations

by sinequanon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: In one universe, Stiles, Kira, and Allison never really have a chance to be more than people tied together by shared trauma. Here are some other ways things might have gone.
Relationships: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Kira Yukimura
Comments: 10
Kudos: 182





	unlikely constellations

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this yet, but last minute edits to what I was planning to post means you get this instead. I've been trying for months to write a Stiles/Kira/Allison friendship fic (with added Peter!) that didn't revolve around nogitsune trauma or Scott. This has been surprisingly difficult. I actually have one such story in the works that I'm pretty excited about, but here are pieces from five discarded stories that didn't work out. Think of it as a sort of preview, if you will.
> 
> Each section is titled to give you a sense of the theme I was going for with each story; each stands independently.

one _. behind every great werewolf (is a human, handing out cookies)_

  
It wasn't that Stiles hated Beacon Hills, or the supernatural.

_Thunk._

It wasn't that he couldn't even get a week (is that too much to ask for?) of peace.

_Thunk._

It wasn't even that he hated bureaucracy—which he did—almost as much as he hated his high school chemistry teacher.

_Thunk_.

It's that they kept trying to push all of their decisions onto his dad, and that just would not stand.

Repeatedly hitting one's head against a table was generally frowned upon in public, but Stiles figured it was a better option than his first instinct, which had been to take his dad home, surround their house with a crocodile-infested moat, add a couple of lasers to the roof, and let the rest of the town hash their latest problem out by themselves.

(That could be Plan B.)

He was gearing up for another hit when a hand appeared between the table and his head. Allison Argent looked down at him with a sort of half-smile, half-grimace that looked weird on her otherwise pretty face. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that," she said, which was nice of her, though Stiles wasn't sure why she cared. Their families didn't know each other all that well and frankly, his dad had complained more than once in the past few weeks, so. 

"With our luck right now," Allison explained, you'd accidentally put yourself in a coma, and as soon as the Sheriff found out he'd either walk away from negotiations and let everyone else argue it out, _or_ he'd shoot some people, and then he'd walk out of negotiations. It'd be a massacre all around: you'd be unconscious, your dad would be on a rampage, and the treaty between the hunters and wolves would break down because the Sheriff wasn't be there to rein them in. So, for the good of all of us, I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to give yourself brain damage."

"How do you suggest we solve the witch problem, then?" he asked, because he would love for this whole, 'enemy of my enemy might be my friend if we can sit together in a room for more than ten minutes at a time' thing to be done and over with, but it hadn't been working out great so far.

A _possible_ coven of _maybe_ witches moving into the area wasn't worth this much of a headache.

"Do we know that the witches are, you know...malevolent? Maybe we could just call and talk to them?" Kira (who'd mostly been feeding Stiles sympathy pastries up to this point) suggested. "I mean, I used to have this aunt that scared me a lot when I was little, because she never liked for anyone to touch her stuff or anything, but then one time when I went to visit her she had this really nice shawl that almost blew away but I caught it and after that she always snuck me cookies. So maybe they're just not particularly sociable?"

It was the kind of idea that could go well, or really, really badly. Stiles liked it immediately. "You think we should just friend them on social media, or send them a box of cookies or something? Like a 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift?"

Kira shrugged. "It couldn't hurt, could it?"

And that was how Magic Macaroons was born.

  
<> <> <>

two. _not exactly sisterhood of the traveling pants_

It's an accident the first time it happens. It's three in the morning and Stiles's eyes are practically bleeding from staring at his dissertation for hours, so, rather than actually getting some sleep, he decides that a quiet drive through town is just the thing he needs to clear his head. Instead of going towards the woods, however, he heads for the gas station at the edge of town, intent on getting a slushie to begin his middle-of-the-night trek. He drives there almost on autopilot, but once he arrives he dutifully heads inside for his prize. He's not sure how long he stands there, letting the machines lull him into a cherry vs. blue raspberry trance, but he doesn't hear the bell jingle as the front door opens, and only notices the person behind him when he turns and almost smacks headlong into Allison Argent.

They eye each other—Stiles, looking like the exhausted mess he is and Allison, like three in the morning slushie stops are the norm for her. Stiles wouldn't know, though, because Allison hasn't been back in town for a few years now.

By some unspoken agreement, Stiles steps aside so Allison can get her own drink and they walk together to pay before they both crawl into Stiles's jeep and start driving. 

It's nice, cruising around, with only the occasional slurp of...you know, to break the silence.

"I ran into Kira the other day," Allison says a while later. "We got to talking, and she mentioned she'd been thinking about Beacon Hills a lot recently. I thought I'd come visit my dad."

"I'm just staying with my dad while I work on my paper," Stiles offers, because it's not like he stuck around, either.

They pull into one of the lesser used lookout points in town and stare at the stars, and it's nice. It reminds Stiles of the one time he and Scott had gone to the drive thru two towns over (because they'd always said they would), and how they'd had such a good time that Stiles had felt like a real teenager again for a few hours.

The moon had been nearly full that night, too, but tonight, there was a bite in the air and Allison (no doubt helped along by her frozen drink) shivers.

Stiles offers her his hoodie, Allison pulls it on, and they keep watching the stars. When the sun breaks over the horizon, Stiles drives back, drops Allison off at her car, and then goes home and sleeps for twelve hours.

By the time Stiles sees Allison again a week later, Kira has also rolled into town. Later that night, after the wolves run themselves off into dreamland, Allison suggests they go for another drive. They don't go to the convenience store this time, but Kira somehow has a bag of candy that they snack on while they're looking at the sky. When the kitsune gets cold, Allison wordlessly hands her Stiles's hoodie. He doesn't actually notice until two hours later, when the three of them are eating at a 24-hour diner. It takes his brain a few seconds to reboot after seeing Kira rockin' his hoodie like it belongs to her, before he gets distracted by chocolate chip pancakes and the conversation moves on.

At the end of the night, he thinks about asking for it back, but he figures he'll just get it later.

(Spoiler alert: he doesn't.)

<> <> <>

three. _a modest proposal_

Stiles knew that something was wrong as soon as Kira showed up with pizza. It wasn't that Kira wasn't nice like that (she had baked Peter his favorite cake for his birthday, after all), but there was also a look in her eyes that Stiles wasn't sure he liked. It was the same look that Scott had given him before admitting that he had wrecked Stiles's bike in the fourth grade. Nothing good ever came from that combination of hopefulness and guilt.

It made him instantly suspicious.

Still, Stiles invited her in, and served up food and drinks for the both of them, and sat through two episodes of Kira's favorite show before he asked his friend what was bothering her.

Kira took her time answering, which was fine, but—was she _blushing_? She stared extra hard at the TV for a couple of extra minutes before turning to Stiles.

"So, you know how I got sent away to kitsune school or whatever?" she asked, because it sounded infinitely better than, "hey, remember when I was trapped in the desert for two years?"

"Yeah..."

"So there are, you know, benchmarks that you need to meet to graduate (read: escape) and one of them involves," she made a face like she was searching for the right word, "...bonds."

"Like pack bonds?"

"It's a different kind of bond," she explained. She spent the next minute not looking at Stiles, and if she picked at that thread any harder, he was afraid she might unravel the entire couch. "Ideally, it needs to be with someone like me, and I don't want to end up in an arranged marriage or something because I can't find another kitsune to be my...partner."

That was understandable.

Kira gulped in a breath and finally told Stiles why she had come over.

"I know that you're not really a kitsune, but you were sort of one for like five minutes so _Imaybetoldthemthatweweretogether._ "

It came out in a blast of words, and once Stiles's brain had actually caught up with what Kira had said, his jaw dropped. His brain may have also actually stopped for a moment.

"We wouldn't really have to get married or anything," she pushed through the silence, “but you could be my beard, or I could be your beard, or maybe we could be each other's beards, I'm not sure how that works. But I know that you love Peter, and he loves you, and I'm sorry I pulled you into this but I could really use your help."

"You want to get married," Stiles said slowly.

"Yes. No! I mean, not to you!" She blanched, then added, "What I mean is, I want to get married some day, and I'm sure you'll be a wonderful husband, but we're not like that and I don't want Peter to kill me."

Stiles pushed another drink into Kira's hand when it looked like she was going to hyperventilate, but he was only sort of paying attention; his brain was already whirring.

"I'm not saying yes," he said thoughtfully, "but I'm not saying no, either. Let me talk to Peter about it. Maybe he can come up with a better plan."

(Odds were, Peter's ideas would be worse, but Stiles could still hope, right?)

  
<> <> <>

four. _life is a highway (oh, look, a giant ball of twine)_

The diner itself is nothing special—it's clean, but the place has clearly seen better days. The menus are cracked and the booths are sticky with the heat, but Kira is laughing so hard Stiles is afraid she's going to fall out of her seat, and the smile on Allison's face is almost as bright as the sunlight on her hair, and Stiles realizes in that moment that he's the happiest that he's been in a long time.

He must have a stupid look on his face because Allison actually stops in the middle of her story to pull her spoon out of her milkshake and point it at him. "What?"

"It's nothing," he hedges, trying to find words that won't make him sound ridiculously sentimental, "I'm just really happy you guys came with me."

Both of them turn softly knowing looks in his direction, like they automatically understand all of the things that he's not saying, and it occurs to Stiles that maybe they _do_ get it. The three of them have been traveling together for a few months now, after all, and Stiles thinks it might not be that much of a stretch to say that he's better friends with the two of them than he is with Scott at the moment. He hadn't planned on having guests when he started this semi-impromptu road trip, but he's glad they're with him.

All they need is Peter and they can have a, "This is Your Life, Scott McCall" reunion thing and ugh—curse his terrible brain for thinking of Peter right now. This is a werewolf-free vacation, damn it. He doesn’t want to think about Peter and Derek and Cora and how they got their family back and how Peter probably doesn’t need Stiles anymore.

“Peter’s not going to leave you, you know,” Allison says, drawing his attention back to them. “Just because all of the wolves have gone temporarily insane doing...werewolf-y things together does not mean he’s forgotten you.”

“I agree,” Kira adds. “I don’t know Peter that well, but even I can see that he loves you.” She sucks the leftover salt from her fries off of her fingers (and Stiles is so proud that Kira has spent enough time with them that she feels comfortable enough to just be herself) and smiles brightly at him. “Scott used to complain about it back when he and I were still dating—how Peter followed you around but wouldn’t give anybody else the time of day.”

Allison nods, and gives an extra loud slurp on the last of her milkshake, just to see Stiles roll his eyes. “Honestly, I kind of expected him to hire someone to shadow us on our trip; I even brought a special taser so that we could get away when our unwanted babysitter tried to stop us from doing something fun—like skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean.”

Stiles and Kira exchange looks—because their trip has been full of adventurously nonlethal, spur-of-the-moment stuff like this—and both of them automatically reach for their wallets.

Five minutes later, they’re on the road again. The sun is shining, the radio is blasting, and Beacon Hills and its residents are a problem for another day.

  
<> <> <>

five. _the town at the end of the world_

Kira’s sitting at the front desk when Stiles comes in with the groceries. To most people, she’d look like she’s playing around on her phone, but the two of them have been together long enough that Stiles knows better than that.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, turning toward her instead of the kitchen. He sets the bags on the floor next to the office and settles in for what might be a long chat. It wasn’t like tonight’s dinner would go bad if he didn’t get it in the fridge on time, anyway. “Kira?”

“It’s over.” She makes a face at her phone, and then at Stiles. “People are saying that things should be getting ‘back to normal’, soon.”

Sure, normal. Beacon Hills was many things, but normal was nowhere on the list, notwithstanding the fact that the town had been mostly empty for the last half dozen years. People returning to Beacon Hills should be good news, but...“We’re not going to have to have sex at the nemeton again, are we?” he asks. “Because I love you, but that was fifty shades of awkward.”

Kira laughs, but she doesn’t disagree. They’d all been a little bit high riding the magic of the nemeton that night, and though it had been fun at the time, they’d all agreed the next morning that it should remain a one-time thing. “I’m sure that even if you and I were willing to do it, Ally would say no. She still refuses to even go into the preserve after dark, and it’s been four years already.”

That was the night that the three of them tied themselves to the town to keep it safe while everyone else was gone. They protected the town, and the nemeton protected them, and there was a funny twinge in Stiles’s stomach at the thought of the Hales or even Scott coming back and taking what had become theirs.

Stiles understands the look on Kira’s face, now. Neither one of them had expected this to happen.

“Does Ally know?”

Kira shakes her head, then shrugs. “She went to see the ladies today, so I doubt it. If she runs into Coach, he’ll tell her, but he’s been kind of scarce, recently.”

It won’t take long to give everyone the good news—other than Stiles, Kira, and Ally, the only current residents of Beacon Hills, California are seven ladies from the senior living center and Coach Finstock, so as long as he can track down Coach, the whole thing will take half an hour, tops. He wonders if the rest of them will be as disappointed by the current turn of events as he and Kira are, and only feels a tiny bit guilty for hoping that the nemeton will somehow decide to keep everyone else out.

Stiles nods toward the other object on the counter, sitting next to Kira’s phone. “What does the magic 8 ball say?”

Rather than answer, Kira shakes the ball and points it in Stiles’s direction.

OUT TO LUNCH, the little triangle reads.

**Author's Note:**

> So I noticed that none of the usual suspects commented on last month’s postings. While this is perfectly fine, I thought I’d link to those fics in case you're interested and you missed them.
> 
> They are: [connect four](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269013), and [notes from a long-suffering sheriff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269496).
> 
> (Also, you’ll see the actual magic magic 8 ball from the last section in an upcoming story, because I really like the idea.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
